


aisle four, between the healthy snacks

by mister all rounder (jeadore)



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Grocery Shopping, M/M, Pining, mention of UNIQ members, yeah that's an actual tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22051102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeadore/pseuds/mister%20all%20rounder
Summary: who is going to tell Seungyoun that there are little hearts in his eyes as Hangyul strolls down the grocery store?
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 12
Kudos: 90
Collections: Midnight Stories 2019 Fanfic Collection





	aisle four, between the healthy snacks

**Author's Note:**

> For the Prompt 108: "domestic seungyul going grocery shopping for the first time(...)"
> 
> Dear prompter, I think I failed you. This might not be as fun as you may have wanted, but I still hope you and everyone that would read it like it!  
> Also: I'm sorry for the title, couldn't come up with anything better. 
> 
> A big thank you to the mods and the gc hand hold!

> aisle four, between the healthy snacks

Seungyoun likes to think that he is amazing at character judgement. Just one look and he can assess people fairly, then he chooses if he’d get closer or not. That’s why he has lots of friends and all of them are ~~good~~ _great_ people—because there’s still a lot of good people in the world and Seungyoun isn’t only a skilled judge, but an optimistic pacifist.

Just a look and he knew that Wang Yibo wasn’t just an _upright Chinese asshole_ as the other trainees used to say in a heavy fake-satoori to not be understood, but a skinny scared foreigner, a kid alone in a whole new country with a different language just like he once was back in Brazil.

Just a look and he knew that Kim Wooseok didn’t want the long standing reception he got the moment he set foot in the show stage. He wasn’t a _cold chic prince_ , but a careful and kind of deeply ashamed inside guy.

Just a look and he knew that Han Seungwoo was distressed, but with a clear driving force. A man scraping a new chance with his bare hands, carrying his and his team’s dreams in his shoulders.

Just a look and—well, well. Isn’t Lee Hangyul the exception to the rule?

(Wenhan once said that Seungyoun’s character judgement is average at the very best. The quid of the question resides in Seungyoun’s own character. No wonder that people showcase their best parts of themselves whenever Seungyoun is acting like his usual overexcited friendly shiba inu puppy self.

Perhaps in denial, Seungyoun answered with an ironic sticker that leaded to war of funny memes, especially of Yixuan.)

(Seungyoun misses his ge. They used to send lots of pics and memes making fun of Yixuan in the group chat, but since Wenhan joined the survival show, the messages have reduced. Totally understandable: Wenhan is a leader now. A great leader, even. In charge of eight people.) (Seungyoun kind of is too.)

Truth be told: Seungyoun’s never asked for company. He just announced he’ll be going to get some snacks for his nightly studio session given that his stack was depleted by Dohyon the day before.

In an overly complete Hangyul manner, his roommate stood up from his bed and announced that he is going too as he grabbed his black cap and black mask.

Lately he’s been doing that whenever he or any other member goes out. He tags alone to the cafés, the stores, the cinema, the crowded streets. Is like he can’t stay grounded in one place for long, he needs to go out and wander, get lost in the vibrant city. Maybe he’s not the homebody type of person, his outgoing nature overpowering his need for rest every time they get a break.

(And they are on a long, long break now. They are impatient, afraid and tired. Until the point that Seungyoun feels like he has to hole up in his studio not to lose his mind—A reminiscence of his old dark days-like break, maybe. Except that this time, this situation is different, even if Seungyoun can’t pinpoint why.) (Except that _he does_.)

In an overly complete Hangyul manner, his roommate also invited the rest of the kids to come too. “Come on, guys! Let’s go. Leave your phone, stretch your legs, breath fine dust. Seungyoun hyung is paying!”

A complain was pending at the tip of his tongue, but it stayed there as his roommate laughed and passed on masks for their younger group members.

Truth be told: Seungyoun’s never asked for company. But Hangyul just tags along and Seungyoun can’t say no.

(“What is a _Hangyul manner_?” Yixuan asks over the phone, accented broken Korean and calm tone.

“It’s… something so Hangyul. I don’t have words to explain it, ge.”

“You, out of words?” the other chuckles over the phone, laughter filled with fondness and serenity. A reminder of the mornings he used to patiently wake him up.

Seungyoun stutters as he tries to voice his baffling thoughts out in order. He’s pretty sure he fails. “Do you understand, ge?”

“No, not really,” Yixuan says, honestly. And it makes Seungyoun wonder if he hasn’t spoken way too fast for Yixuan to understand. Or if it’s due to his feelings and his thoughts, too boisterous and unruly to comprehend—by third parties and by himself. “But I think that talking about it can help you, so I listen.”

A fond, grateful smile blooms in Seungyoun’s lips. There’s not a mean nerve in Yixuan’s body, he’s just pure kindness. He misses his old leader so much sometimes—the way he takes his jokes and the way he dotes and takes care of him like father, a proud _gege_.)

(Seungyoun misses him badly.) (Not that he’ll ever say it.)

Hangyul is like a mystery box.

Unlike Eunsang, who calmly pads behind them as he hums an old pop song and acts exactly like Seungyoun judged the first time he met him. Serene and soft and way too mature for his age, yet way too naïve. In the other side of the spectrum, Hangyul is definitely not what he had thought—he is not older, arrogant nor contemptable. He doesn’t even get angry easily.

“Should we go to the convenience store or to the grocery store down the street?” Eunsang asks, voice a little bit higher than a murmur.

“Where are the best sales?” Hangyul asks instead, an inquisitive and teasing eyebrow raised.

“E-mart?”

“Then lead the way, Eunsangie,” Hangyul exclaims and hugs the younger kid’s shoulder.

He may look brusque and hard in the edges, but in the inside he is easy-going and smiley. A mystery box.

No, no. Scratch that. Hangyul is like an onion.

(Except that is like a mutant onion, or a tinted onion where every layer is different. A different color, a different texture, a different feeling.)

Unlike Minhee, the only other kid that agreed to come along, who stood in that stage with a mesh of confidence and awkwardness—some kind of self-built poise. Although he isn’t able to hide nor separate his cool from his nerdy side, the layers way too entwined together.

“Hey, should we get some tea? There’s a discount in earl grey.”

“Earl grey?” Minhee snorts. “Isn’t that for old British ladies who can’t palate black tea?”

“Says who?”

Minhee splutters lightly as he realizes what is going to come in his way.

It’s hard to resist not to tease the kid, especially because his awkwardness escalates and he becomes a long-limbed and lanky version of a tomato. “Oooh, our Minhee is well-versed in tea history,” Seungyoun jokes and kind of rejoice when the kid’s ears turn red. Sad that the blond hair is gone, it was more amusing when the contrast between his hair and his flushed skin was notorious. “I don’t know, Hangyul-ah. I just came for snacks.”

“And now you’re getting some tea,” the other says, matter-of-factly. And also like an obnoxious joke. But then he lowers his voice, barely a higher murmur than Eunsang’s, til is husky and rich. Warm. “You’re drinking a lot of caffeine lately, hyung. Tea can keep you awake too. You know, like liquid company.”

If Seungyoun thinks it thoroughly and with uttermost honesty: Hangyul is like warm tea in an autumn night.

(A spiced warm tea, actually. Especially when he’s on the stage, strutting with confidence, dancing with fluidity, glancing with the perfect mix of teasing, want and intensity. He may look scorching hot, yet he doesn’t scold. He burns you differently–it’s bracing, prickles in your tongue and once you embrace the taste, you can’t help but want more, more, _more_.)

(Sungjoo, in the other hand, said that Seungyoun’s character judgement _sucks_. And then he unfairly accused him about his tendency to project himself on the others. Someone that is all the time acting in the way that you least expect? That goes from concrete seriousness to carefree laughter in 0.02 secs? That is way too sociable and confident and optimistic? A good-natured jokester and charismatic performer?

Definitely not in denial, Seungyoun refuses to agree and states that Hangyul is quite different to him.

“Look, if he is as high-serotonin as you, then God forbid us and save us all, but it must be some sort of soulmate thing-y,” Sungjoo says as he grills some pork belly. There must be a tease or a cheeky insult in the statement given Sungjoo’s shit-eating grin, yet Seungyoun’s whole system has come to a halt after the last words to even register it.)

(He doesn’t miss Sungjoo at all.) (Mostly because they see each other twice a month.)

To say that is what Seungyoun expected to be, would be a lie.

Harmless jokes and bickering aside, grocery shopping with Hangyul is a whole new experience. A new side, a new leaf, a new layer, a new mystery box open.

Strolling down the aisle, back straight and hands firmly guiding the shopping cart, Hangyul checks every single stand. Every. Single. Stand. He compares prices, checks brands, gladly announces discounts or promotions, and even reads the nutritional values. Seungyoun thinks they’ve been stuck in the same aisle for ten minutes now.

It reaches the point that Minhee complains with long _hyun~ng_ , and when Minhee does some sort of aegyo, it is bad.

“Go, go, check whatever you want and meet me here later,” Hangyul says nonchalant, but he grabs the kid’s wrist and pushes him closer to their little group and himself, saving Minhee from being in the way of an old lady’s speedy cart.

Not for the first time, Seungyoun marvels in the way Hangyul so effortlessly take care of others. Call it good reflexes or strong defensive instinct, but it seems like he always is there. Hangyul joked once that is due to his yellow belt in taekwondo. (B _lack belt_ , actually. Never boast about it, tough.) But is not—is deeper, intrinsic to him. Something between a good raising in manners and natural born bonhomie. ( _A Hangyul manner._ )

A hand reaching out to keep the other safe, in place, grounded. A comforting pat, a reassuring caress to let the other know that he is _there_.

Ironically is from the same guy that looks at the snack in Seungyoun’s hands and wrinkles his nose.

“Hyung, don’t. That’s awful.”

Seungyoun blinks. “What? It’s fries.”

“Exactly. It’s _fried_. And basically the worst of the worse junk food.”

Seungyoun shrugs. “My body is used to by now.”

“Yeah, but Dohyon’s not,” Hangyul replies.

“Who says I’m gonna share it with him?”

“Who says you’re not gonna to?” his roommate fires back. Internally, Seungyoun winces because it’s true. He’s not mentally made of titanium so he’s not capable of resisting those droopy eyes and full cheeks.

Not that he is going to ever break their habit of bickering over everything and anything not serious and, actually agree.

By their side, Eunsang chuckles softly under his breath. “Is not like any of us can say no to Dohyon.”

Hangyul winces, but quickly changes his expression and nods, victorious. Then he squads, looking for something in the lower stand of the aisle. It takes him a few seconds before he exclaims a _here!_ that makes people turn around to look at him—even Minhee, a few aisles ahead. 

There’s a big blue and white pack in his hand, with black block letters and a weird image at the bottom.

“Gim?” Seungyoun questions, his eyebrows furrowed. He did eat before, but roasted seaweed is honestly not his favourite taste to snack on.

“It’s good for your body!” Hangyul assures him as he hands him the pack and points at the nutrition value. “And it’s great for the concentration. My dad used to buy me this for when it was exams season. Oh, and I think I saw dried apple earlier…” he adds as he turns around and squints at the start of the snack aisle.

For a second, Seungyoun’s mind goes blank and his breathing slows down. He hasn’t told anyone yet—about the melody that refuses to be perfect nor about the demons that started to chase him.

But here’s Hangyul with a lazy smile, reaching out to keep him grounded.

(If he’s honest with himself, Seungyoun misses a lot of things. The laughter and mesh of languages with his old groupmates, the passionate and cheerful atmosphere of Brazil, the sea breeze of Philippines, the wise and fond words of his dad.

He tries his best to live the present, the here and now, but maybe he is a nostalgic person by nature.

One glance at Hangyul and he just wants to look forward.)

Any peaceful moment or still atmosphere that was set in the middle of E-mart as Hangyul stares at the other snacks and Seungyoun and Eunsang check the dried shrimps, is broken when Minhee comes back, closing the distance with long strides and a bunch of packs in his hands.

“Hyung, hyung! Cook us some ramyeon tonight!”

Seungyoun grimaces. Is not like he can’t cook to save his life, he had to learn to do it when he lived alone, but cooking isn’t his favourite activity nor one he is greatly skilled at.

Next to him and leaning over the cart towards the new comer, Hangyul nods. “Sure, kid,” he agrees easily, smirking when Minhee sulks at being called a kid. “We need to buy a green onion then. And cheese, do you like with cheese?”

“I do,” Eunsang interjects as Minhee seconds him.

“With lot of cheese then. And some meat? And…not those,” his roommate states as he takes the packs of noodles from the kid’s hands. “This brand becomes all soggy…” and that’s how a long talk about cooking techniques, flavours and recipes start.

Seungyoun never thought that ramyeon could be such a vital topic to be this passionate about, but Hangyul’s been comparing brands for the last ten minutes. Is quite amusing and fascinating the way his husky voice rises lightly every time he mentions shrimp ramyeon and how he calls the spicy ramyeon a _monstrosity_ , a poorly hidden pout when he confesses he’d love to be able to eat it.

His eyebrows rise and fall as he speaks, ever so expressive, and his lips stretch in large smiles so easily. It’s nice and kind of charming to see him so relaxed, so cheerful as he speaks and moves around the store. It makes the grocery shopping experience something worth doing and repeating again and again.

More than a high-serotonin person, Hangyul would be a serotonin inducing person. Bringing peace and happiness to whoever would try to really know him.

“Hyung,” Eunsang calls him softly. Everything in the kid is so soft that Seungyoun can’t help but dote on him. “You keep staring. People will think you like him.”

Seungyoun shakes his head, shocked. He… what? No, he doesn’t, right? It’s just… Ugh, Eunsang is spending way too much time with Minhee.

(Videocalling Yibo is a routine that is getting harder and harder lately. Blame the explosive success of his drama and his never-ending growing popularity, but don’t really blame it because they still do it every little blank they find between their schedules.

Yibo looks at him through the screen with dead blank eyes, only tinted with fatigue and a glint of teasing. “Seems to me that you have a crush, Chengyan. Now grow some balls and ask him out.”

Seungyoun chokes on his spit.) (Good thing that Eunsang hasn’t met Yibo yet.)

Seungyoun goes back straight to the studio with tea, roasted seaweed, two packs of shrimp ramyeon and his heart in sleeve.


End file.
